


Healing Paws

by Eggsyobsessed



Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Capable Eggsy Unwin, Cats, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Harry is kind of daft, M/M, Merlin wants to be left alone, Pet Loss, Surprises, harry tries to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggsyobsessed/pseuds/Eggsyobsessed
Summary: Merlin lost his cat. Harry can't handle his strop. Eggsy points out to Harry it's not a strop, but a different form of grieving. Harry makes it better with a four-legged surprise.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin
Series: Kingsman Collection of Promtps [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662037
Comments: 16
Kudos: 77





	Healing Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zebraljb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/gifts).



> As always, my brain is struggling to focus on anything big and the like, and so short fics is what I can produce. 
> 
> Gifting this to zebra, who prompted: Merlahad: their cat dies and Merlin is devastated and grumpy but then harry surprises him with a kitten and he is a ball of weepy fluff. 
> 
> This went a LITTLE differently than I was expecting, but pretty much stays with the request.  
> Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> This is not beta read.

It had been the fifth day in a row Merlin worked from home, and it started to crawl up Harry’s arse and settle uncomfortably there. Sure, he logically knew why, but fuck if it hadn’t been the same feline that he’d put up with for 19 years, that they both lost.

Mr. Critter was a less than desirable house guest, or as Merlin liked to call him their fur child, and Harry couldn’t say he was completely sorry. Well, okay, he was. But the damn cat had beat every infection known to man, or in this case feline world, and somehow survived his new found blindness, just four short months of being found dead. It was, of course, Harry who had discovered the black and grey tabby, just as he always was, lying about in the sun that shined through their bay window.

Except when Harry called him for dinner - because Merlin was stuck at HQ that particular night for a mission - and the cat didn’t budge. He should have clued in by his unusual stillness, but then again Harry feared Mr. Critter had passed on a few other times. He swore down on his very life the cat could play dead. When Merlin refused to believe or entertain the thought, Harry had taped the cat, and naturally that was the day he popped up with that annoying meow he gave Harry.

Regardless, Mr. Critter hadn’t moved this time, not even when Harry gave him a few good nudges like he usually did. Naturally this would happen to Harry. His husband was convinced Harry was out to kill the feline, and that was precisely why Harry damn near shit his pants when he found the cat dead.

“Hamish,” Harry called softly from the door. It didn’t shock him when Merlin didn’t look up, bags under his eyes with a shadow of stubble littered his cheeks, almost made his cheekbones appear more prominent. “I have lunch for you.” He was delicate, if he could be anything less, as he wandered in and produced a plate containing a roast beef sandwich and onion crisps.

“I’m not hungry.” Harry grit his teeth. It had been the same bloody answer over and over for nearly a week, and he was quite sick of it. If Merlin went any longer without meals, he’d weigh as much as Eggsy and that wouldn’t do with his tall, slender frame. “Stop hovering, Harry.”

“I will not!” Harry slammed the plate against Merlin’s paper covered, mahogany desk. “This is absurd! At least eat a bloody meal, Hamish!” He understood grieving, Harry really did, but he didn’t ever skip meals. And Mr. Pickle was his baby, just as Madam Gherkin was now. “Look,” he said softer.

Cool, hazel eyes lifted up to meet his, as Merlin carefully leaned away from his computer, morphing out of the permanent crouch he’d be in and leveled a patient gaze. Which usually meant he was pissed, but Harry took the risk anyway and continued on.

“I understand losing Mr. Critter was hard, but for fucks sake, Hamish!” Harry rounded the desk to stand beside him. “I can’t have you wasting away.” His tone soft, as gentle and caring as it could be as he passed a hand along Merlin’s stubbled head. “You need a shave,” Harry mused.

The once dark brown hair that grew in was now barely salt and pepper. If Merlin grew a beard, which if he didn’t shave he’d have one, it would be nearly all grey. Most of the world still thought Harry had a nice, full head of brown hair, which was true...except it should be more silver than not. But fuck if he was going to stop tinting it now!

Merlin swatted his hand away. “I’m fine, Harold.” His usual grumpy behavior was worse, and Harry wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“You most certainly are not.” Harry returned to pet his head. “Darling, this is unhealthy.” The way Merlin leaned into his palm as he cupped the back of his head, fingers massaged the tension out, was a tell tale that Merlin knew he was being unreasonable.

There was no time limit on one's grief, but Harry needed his husband to at least care for himself; hygiene and nutrition being the utmost importance. After a long, silent moment Merlin reached forward for the haphazardly strewn sandwich and even picked up a few scattered crisps off of his desk to shove between the bread with meat. Harry wrinkled his nose. He never quite understood why anyone wanted crisps on their sandwiches, or why anyone liked sandwiches anyway. He hated the mix of flavors more than anything.

“You are not allowed to make that face, or comment, on how I like to eat if I am eating.” Harry quickly composed himself; he was right. Once he had half of the offered meal gone, most of the crisps, and downed a bottle of water that Harry brought him, Merlin said, “Thank ye.”

Harry placed a soft, tender kiss to the crown of his head. “You’re welcome, dear.” He watched with fond eyes as Merlin snickered a bit at the pet name, but tipped his face for a proper kiss that Harry met happily. “Will I be expecting you at work tomorrow?” He wondered, gathering the remainder of Merlin’s lunch to toss in the rubbish bin.

Merlin produced a long suffering sigh, eyes rolled as they focused back on his computer screen. “Half a sandwich hardly equates returning to work, Harry.”

“Right.” Harry decided not to poke further, pick your battles as his mother always said. And right now he’d take the triumph that Merlin had some lunch. He’d work on getting him back to the office another day...maybe.

\---

“Ain’t Merlin coming back?” Eggsy inquired once the rest of the table was dismissed. Harry did not roll his eyes, Arthur did not partake in such petty behavior, and he most surely would not groan. “I’ll take that as a no.” Eggsy answered himself.

“He was supposed to!” Harry nearly shouted. “But no, yesterday his cat's ashes were ready and I had to spend the night coddling him.”

Eggsy flinched back. “Bit harsh Harry, yeah?” Harry shot him a cold, glacial glare. “I mean, Arthur,” Eggsy quickly corrected.

Harry allowed some steam deflate out of him as he settled further against the back of his chair. Gentlemen didn’t slouch, but fuck that right about now.

“Maybe it was, but I had Mr. Pickle put down. Pancreatitis isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Then I had him stuffed and brought home. I had myself a good cry, then moved on.” Harry shrugged.

“Maybe Merlin ain’t like that.” That stunned Harry, and it was clear Eggsy saw that. “Didn’t you ever stop and think he isn’t like you? He’s Merlin, the gov, but man has the softest fucking heart in this place.” Eggsy waved an aimless hand around. “I’m just saying, he might need to be treated differently.”

Harry watched him for a long moment, Eggsy’s words played over and over in his head before a light-bulb went off. “Oh!” Eggsy actually jumped at his sudden volume. “I think I have the right thing for him!” He fished his phone out of a pocket and started to google search pet stores. “Care to join me on a mission, Galahad?”

Eggsy’s smile was apprehensive, but if the boy knew what was good for him, he’d agree to go. Which of course he did, just like the good agent he was.

\---

“I’m not hungry, Harry.” Merlin didn’t look up from the screen that played The Aristocats.

Why he decided to watch a film revolving around a group of cats, was beyond him, because all he did was cry. All he wanted was Harry to leave him the fuck alone, and allow him to cry his feelings while he shoved his face full of butter toffee biscuits.

“Says the person downing a package of biscuits, right, but that’s not what I have.” Merlin continued to watch, not giving his husband an ounce of his attention. “Okay, ignore me.” Harry set whatever it was he carried on the coffee table, before he flopped his arse next to Merlin.

Even that wasn’t enough to give Harry recognition as he focused on O’Malley the alley cat, but a few more minutes passed and a new meow sounded in the room. It wasn’t off of the telly, and sure as shit was too small to be Mr. Critter who no longer possessed a voice box. Merlin lifted his head, eyes searched their sitting room to find it feline free, until he zeroed in on the crate on their coffee table.

“Harry,” Merlin whispered carefully. “What is that?” It was a silly question, because he was positive his husband didn’t go out and purchase a puppy; he’d have to hurt him.

Harry lifted a foot to tap the crate closer. “Why don’t you have a look see?” He inched it further down the table until it hit Merlin’s propped foot. “Go on,” Harry encouraged quietly.

Merlin sat forward, peering into the top where he could see a tiny, orange striped tabby that had the smallest pink nose, and biggest green eyes. It lifted up on hind legs to paw through a bar, a claw just grazed Merlin’s skin, followed by a pitiful squeak that was supposed to be a meow.

“Oh,” Merlin exhaled. “Oh look at this wee one.” He unlatched the top to scoop the little fur-ball against his chest. A delighted laugh escaped him as the kitten licked his fingers. “Harry.” Merlin didn’t meet his husband’s eyes, afraid he’d see them misty and red from more than what the movie evoked.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin looked up, confused by Harry’s apology. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been what you needed lately. I expected you to handle Mr. Critter’s death like I had Mr. Pickle. Cry, pack him up, mount his stuffed body in the loo and move on.” The loo bit had Merlin flinch, he always hated it. Which was why Mr. Pickle was in their secondary bath and not primary. “You put up with my dead dog in the loo for years, and I was too daft to notice you needed something different, and for that I am sorry.”

Merlin gave his new little fur child a soft, delicate kiss between the ears before he slid down the sofa to curl into Harry’s side; his head rested against Harry’s shoulder. They sat like that for a long while, Harry’s arms formed a cage around Merlin and his kitty, as the new baby in the house burrowed comfortably in the crook of Merlin’s neck.

“I forgive ye,” he answered. There was no denying Harry’s surprise as his body went rigid for a moment, but soon relaxed when Merlin twisted to kiss the underside of his jaw. “I know it hasn’t been easy dealing with me, and I know ye are familiar with the loss of an animal, but Mr. Critter was my first.”

Harry shifted a bit. “As in you’ve never had a pet die on you?”

“As in my very first pet and yes, first animal to pass away.” Merlin cuddled his kitten. “But it was not yer fault, Harry. You were just trying to help me to get on the best way you knew.” Harry’s warm, silky lips left their imprint on the top of his head. “She’s perfect,” he added.

“How do you know it’s a girl?”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the doubt. “Pretty sure the lack of a nut sack gave that away.” Harry’s laughter shook his back. “Thank you. I love her.” Merlin stole another kiss, neck craned to reach his husband's lips. “And I love ye,” he promised, lips traced the words against Harry’s.

“And I you my darling.”

The unnamed female kitten would later be called Pesty. She was as mischievous and as pesty as they came, and if only for the numerous oxfords she clawed. Both men were thankful it was the ordinary and not Kingsman issued pairs, but still caused Harry to lose sleep. Merlin said it should have been hair, but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.


End file.
